


Hung (Up On You)

by gracerene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Bad Puns, Blood and Injury, Bottom Harry Potter, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Dirty Talk, H/D Erised 2020, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hung Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, Large Cock, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Mild Gore, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Hogwarts, Riding, Sexual Tension, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracerene/pseuds/gracerene
Summary: Harry doesn't see any need going all the way to St Mungo's just to heal up a scratch, but if Malfoy wants to take him home and heal Harry himself, he won't say no tothat.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 86
Kudos: 899
Collections: H/D Erised 2020





	Hung (Up On You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CelestialCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialCat/gifts).



> Happy H/D Erised, apriicat!! I picked a couple of things from your sign-up and ran with them, and I hope you enjoy this quick and smutty ficlet! ♥
> 
> Eternal gratitude to my marvellous betas and to the mods for being awesome!

Harry collapsed back against the brick wall lining the alleyway, panting with pain and adrenaline as Ron and Malfoy took down the last of the baddies they'd been duelling. They'd been working this case for months, and though they hadn't planned on wrapping things up tonight, in the end it had all gone off without a hitch.

"Merlin, Potter, did you get yourself cursed!?"

Well, _mostly_ without a hitch anyway.

"Steady on, Malfoy, it's just a scratch," Harry replied, suppressing a wince as said scratch throbbed with a burning pain all down his side. It wasn't anything particularly nasty, just a Severing Charm he'd not managed to fully dodge before it sliced open his torso. He'd mostly staunched the blood flow with a hasty Healing spell, but he _was_ starting to feel a bit light-headed. Not that he was going to admit as much to Malfoy. He might have changed from the horrid boy he'd been at Hogwarts, grown into somebody decent and competent and unfairly fit, but that didn't mean Harry was keen to show him any weakness. 

Malfoy had been brought on as a Curse-Breaker consultant three months ago, when Ron and Harry had first been assigned the case. In a surprising show of foresight, the DMLE decided having a Curse-Breaker on hand would probably be helpful when taking down the country's largest underground Dark and cursed object auction house. Malfoy, with his particular history and skillset, was a logical choice, and Harry'd had no choice but to accept Malfoy back into his life once more. Sure, Harry had been aware of Malfoy: he'd unable to avoid hearing talk of his brilliant work from Bill during dinners at the Burrow; he'd seen flashes of his white-blond hair at every charity gala Harry had gone to; and he had listened to Hermione's grudging praise of the lobbying he'd been doing for anti-blood-purity legislation. It had all painted a very different picture of Malfoy from the one Harry'd had in his head, and he'd had to work hard to fight off the instinctive curiosity to find out more. Malfoy was a part of his past, no matter how interesting (and fit) he seemed to be these days.

Of course, that was before Harry was forced to work with him day in and day out, forced to listen to his keen insight, forced to watch him competently unravel the most complex of curses, forced to stare at his stupid shiny hair as it gleamed beneath the Ministry's overhead lights. He'd tried to stay away from Malfoy, really he had, but it was hardly his fault if the Ministry all but dropped him in Harry's lap like an incredibly attractive, spiky present, ripe for obsessing over. Harry liked to think he was pretty good at his job, but it was made infinitely more difficult when Draco bloody Malfoy had him all wound up and twisted into knots. 

So he took out his frustration with barbed banter and snarky repartee that Malfoy seemed all too willing to return. Without the malicious undercurrent, Harry found himself quite enjoying the back and forth, though he found it did nothing to quell his desire. If anything, it was like a very long, extended bout of foreplay, the kind that made Harry desperate for the main event. Even now, dazed and panting with pain in a grotty alleyway, Harry's prick made a valiant effort to chub up at the sight of Malfoy all sweaty and worked up from the duel. There was a smudge of dirt along one sharp cheekbone that Harry kind of wanted to lick off, which was probably a sign that the pain was beginning to get to him, because there was no way a mouthful of dirt would be pleasant, no matter how delectable Malfoy's skin might be under normal circumstances. Harry's gaze drifted upwards, taking in the furrow of Malfoy's brow, which indicated an unusual amount of concern as he gazed at Harry.

"Weasley," Malfoy said, his worried eyes not leaving Harry's face. "Something's wrong with Potter."

"What?" Ron answered, his tone alarmed as he strode into view. Ron and Malfoy had formed a surprisingly solid bond over the course of the case that Harry absolutely was _not_ jealous of. 

"I'm _fine_ ," Harry said, waving off Ron's concern. "Fucker grazed me with a Severing Charm. I'll be right as rain as soon as I heal myself up."

Ron snorted. "Mate, your Healing spells are shit. Go get yourself taken care of at St Mungo's, I'll get things wrapped-up here."

"Ron," Harry said in protest, his tone pleading; he really hated St Mungo's. They always made a Hippogriff out of a Snidget. But Ron wasn't having any of it, just gave him the _look_ that Hermione had clearly helped him perfect, before turning to Malfoy.

"Malfoy, can you make sure he gets himself checked out?"

Harry turned accusing eyes onto Ron, the filthy traitor. "I don't need a babysitter!" Nor did he need to spend more time with Malfoy, especially now that the case was all wrapped up. He was starting to reach critical levels of the horn, and too much exposure to Malfoy and the shirt that was currently clinging to his surprisingly defined biceps might lead to Harry doing something… rash and ill-advised. He was already seriously concerned he'd caught a case of the _feelings_ , but having Malfoy care for him while he was ill… there might not be any coming back from that.

"The last time you promised to get yourself sorted you ended up with a mutated curse infection caused by your shoddy Healing spells that had _you_ in St Mungo's for three days and my wife in tears." He gave Harry another _look_. "It's Hermione and my anniversary this weekend, which means _you_ "—he stabbed a threatening finger towards Harry—"get a chaperone until you prove you can be trusted to take care of yourself and not cock up my weekend plans."

Harry pouted and Malfoy let out an amused huff. "No worries, Weasley. I'll make sure this one is _properly_ healed and doesn't infringe upon your… quality time with Granger this weekend."

Ron must have really been keen for his anniversary plans because he didn't even bristle at Malfoy's referring to Hermione as Granger instead of Granger-Weasley. He just flashed Malfoy a shockingly sunny smile before nodding at them both.

"Excellent. Harry, owl me when you're home and healed. Malfoy, it was… not entirely unpleasant working with you. Let me know if you ever want me to clobber you at chess again." He turned and frowned. "Oi, Junior Auror Rogers, what do you think…" Ron's voice trailed off as he strode back towards the scene. 

"All right then, Potter," Malfoy said, holding out an arm in clear offer to Side-Along. "Shall we?"

Harry groaned. "I really, really, _really_ don't want to go to St Mungo's."

Malfoy's nose wrinkled. "I'm not all that keen on the place either, nor are they particularly fond of me, but needs must. Weasley must have something truly and spectacularly depraved planned for his and Granger's anniversary given his reaction just now and I, for one, do not plan on finding out what happens if I don't ensure you're all healed up and unable to infringe upon their weekend."

Harry tried not to make a face—he was a grown adult and thus above such childish antics in reference to his best mates having kinky sex, but ugh—before turning pleading eyes on Draco. "I bet _your_ Healing spells are top notch," he said, pitching his voice into something earnest and complimentary. 

Malfoy puffed up a little and Harry fought off an amused smile. "Well yes, of course they are," Malfoy replied haughtily. He gave Harry a judgemental look. "It'd be irresponsible of me if they _weren't_ considering how common injuries are in my line of work."

Harry ignored the slight—for one, Malfoy wasn't wrong, and for two, pissing him off right now wouldn't get Harry what he wanted, as delightful as it was to rile him up. Instead, Harry blinked slowly up at Malfoy—not hard, considering he was still feeling a bit faint from blood loss and the blinking took a worrying amount of effort—and gave Malfoy what he hoped was his most pleading and beguiling stare. Malfoy went still and looked at him with wide, shocked eyes, which Harry took to mean he was suitably bewitched—either that, or Harry had missed the mark entirely and Draco was actually wondering if Harry was suffering from gastro-intestinal distress. Not wanting to give Malfoy an opportunity to breathe life into that particularly unsexy possibility, Harry said, "In that case, why don't you take me back to my place and heal me up yourself? I bet you're just as good as whatever Trainee Healer they'll assign to me, and this way we can both avoid the hassle of St Mungo's."

Malfoy's eyes widened further, his pupils dilating as he unconsciously licked his lips. It sent a throb of arousal straight through Harry, which was impressive considering the pain radiating out from his side. Harry played his final card.

"Please?" he whispered, not begging, per se, but not _not_ begging either. Something hot and hungry flashed across Draco's face, so quick Harry wasn't sure if he'd seen it or just _wanted_ to see it.

"Oh, all right," Draco snapped, seeming for all the world as if he was immensely put-upon by the request, though Harry didn't miss the slight easing of tension in his shoulders. A trip to St Mungo's wouldn't have been pleasant for either of them. "And what's your plan for getting us to your humble abode? I don't know where it is so I can't Apparate us, and you're in no position to do so either."

Harry rummaged around in his jeans pockets until he found an old sweet wrapper, which he offered to Malfoy, mostly just to see the look of abject disgust on his face at being offered what was ostensibly rubbish.

"It's a Portkey," Harry eventually offered when it became clear Malfoy was beginning to seriously worry about Harry's sanity. "I always keep some on hand to various locations in case of an emergency. This one will get us to Grimmauld Place."

Malfoy seemed reluctantly impressed at the forethought, which probably shouldn't have made Harry feel as warm and tingly as it did. His cheeks flushed as he activated the Portkey, and a moment later the both of them were stumbling into Harry's bed.

One of Malfoy's eyebrows rose as he took in Harry's mussed bedsheets and the pile of laundry on the armchair in the corner. Harry knew he shouldn't have put off cleaning yesterday. He hastily kicked a used pair of pants under the bed, as if that would suddenly make the room appear like less of a disaster.

"You had your Portkey calibrated to send you directly to your bedroom?"

He had, because he mostly figured he'd be using the Portkeys when he was too exhausted to Apparate and thought the proximity to his bed would be ideal. He'd not foreseen this particular circumstance, in which Draco Malfoy would be travelling with him and thus _in his bedroom_ , looking even more fuckable than usual when he was within pouncing distance of Harry's mattress. Another throb of arousal pulsed through him and he swayed on his feet, feeling light-headed.

"Woah," Malfoy said, stepping forward and placing a strong arm around Harry's waist. Harry might have normally bristled at the implication that he was about to pass out like some Victorian maiden, but Malfoy's arm felt quite nice wrapped around him and his knees _were_ feeling quite wobbly. "Let's get you over the bed and heal you up."

Harry let himself be led over to his bed, sitting down amongst the mussed bed sheets while Malfoy looked him over. 

"Right, shirt off, then," Malfoy said crisply, like asking Harry to strip off in his bedroom wasn't the kind of statement that could give a bloke _ideas_.

"What?"

Malfoy sighed. "Your shirt. Take it off so I can heal the great big bloody gash in your side." The _you idiot_ at the end went unsaid, but not unheard.

"Ah, right." Harry struggled for a moment with his shirt, grateful he didn't have his bulky Auror robes to shrug out of since they'd been undercover when things had unexpectedly imploded. Then again, if he'd been wearing his Auror robes, with their woven-in protection charms, he probably wouldn't have been injured in the first place. Then again _again_ , seeing as how getting injured ended up with him half-naked in his bedroom with Draco Malfoy, maybe it wasn't _all_ bad.

" _Just a scratch_ ," Malfoy muttered angrily as he took in Harry's side which was, admittedly, looking disconcertingly like minced beef now that his shirt wasn't obscuring the gross dangly bits of skin and flesh. 

Harry opened his mouth to downplay the injury but Malfoy shot him a _look_ —Merlin, was Hermione giving lessons?—and Harry promptly zipped his lips. It probably would not be smart to rile up the man with the wand pointed at his side.

"Okay," Malfoy said, placing a warm, wand-callused hand against Harry's shoulder and sending tingles down Harry's arm. "I'm going to cast in three, two, one."

He murmured a Healing spell Harry wasn't familiar with—which wasn't saying much, Harry barely knew the basic spells—and Harry braced himself for the usual discomfort that accompanied his own shoddy Healing spells. Instead, he was hit with a wave of warmth and a not-unpleasant tingling as Malfoy's magic slid across his skin, knitting it back together. It was quite nice, actually, that strong, building heat radiating from his side. The sudden absence of pain—which he hadn't even realised he'd been experiencing to such an intense degree—combined with the caress of Malfoy's magic, the feel of his hand on Harry's bare shoulder, and his general proximity to Harry's half-naked person, turned the arousal which had been simmering in his gut into a full-fledged boil.

He let out a sound which could only be categorised as a moan, far too tinged with desire to be mistaken for a groan of pain. Malfoy's gaze moved from Harry's now-healed side to his face, his pupils blown as he met Harry's stare. Harry saw with a sudden, dizzying rush, his own want reflected back at him. There was a moment of silence. Two. And then suddenly Malfoy was half in his lap and they were necking like teenagers, Malfoy's hands sliding through Harry's hair as Harry moaned into Malfoy's mouth.

 _Fuck_ , but Malfoy— _Draco_ —could kiss. Harry had always enjoyed a good toe-curling snog but had found them increasingly hard to come by as he got older and his dates seemed to view kissing as an annoying prelude to the main event. But it was clear Draco enjoyed kissing just for kissing's sake, because nobody became this good at it without an honest love of snogging.

Though Harry hoped more was on the table tonight than just these—admittedly magnificent—kisses, because his cock was so hard it was almost painful, and he felt like he might actually combust if he didn't get off soon, preferably with Draco. He moaned, grabbing on to Draco's hips and arching against him in a way he hoped was sexy and suggestive. Apparently he missed the mark, because Draco seemed to take that as his cue to break off the kiss and slide off the bed. He looked fit as hell with his mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips, though less hot was the look of concern in his eyes as he looked Harry over.

"Fuck," Draco muttered, rubbing a hand across his face. "We shouldn't do this right now. You're injured."

Oh, was that all? Harry scoffed. "What, doubting your healing ability?"

Draco frowned, an adorable furrow forming between his brows. "My Healing spells are impeccable," Draco said with a sniff. "Your side probably looks better than it did before you got cut up."

Harry beamed at him. "Exactly. So there's no reason for you not to fuck me through the mattress."

Draco's eyes went wide, and Harry didn't miss the distended bulge of his erection tenting his trousers. Still, he hesitated, the noble bastard. "Best practice still dictates no strenuous activity for twenty-four hours post-Healing spell," he said, sounding like he was reciting from memory, which he probably was. 

"Aren't you supposed to give injured people what they want?" Harry said. "Pretty sure you're supposed to spoil me rotten—helps with healing." Draco snorted, but Harry pressed on, "So if you really want to help me get better, you should be nice to me."

"Oh, should I?"

Harry nodded, reaching out and pulling Draco to stand between his spread legs. He nuzzled at Draco's bulge, maintaining eye contact and watching as Draco's flimsy resolve began to melt away. "Yeah," Harry breathed, right against the damp patch beginning to form from Draco's leaking cock. "You should give me _this_. It'll make me feel better, promise."

Draco groaned. "Salazar, you're awful. I can't believe they let you loose on the public with such horrible lines."

Harry smirked and began to tug at Draco's flies. "Worked though, didn't it?"

"I'm ashamed to say it did," Draco said with a sigh as he stripped off his shirt. Harry took a moment to ogle his pale chest, dusted with a smattering of fair hair and bisected with familiar scars. He didn't have long to linger, though, because next Draco was batting away Harry's fingers, which had gone still on Draco's waistband, and undoing his trousers, sliding them off along with his pants and leaving him entirely, gloriously naked.

" _Fuck_ ," Harry said emphatically, his gaze caught on Draco's cock. It was flushed pink and leaking at the tip, just long and thick enough to make Harry really feel it. _Merlin_ , Harry couldn't wait to get that inside of him.

"See something you like?" Draco asked, preening a little in a way that was surprisingly endearing. Before Harry could answer, Draco gave him a hot once-over. "You seem a little overdressed."

Draco didn't have to tell him twice. Harry lifted his hips off the bed and shucked off his jeans and boxers before he could overthink. Once naked, though, there was no hiding from the fact that, with past partners, this was the point where things often went awry. Biting his lip, he chanced a glance up at Draco who was, as expected, staring open-mouthed at Harry's dick.

See, the thing was… Harry kind of had a massive cock. Which sounded like the dream when you were a teenaged boy sharing a dormitory with a bunch of _other_ teenage boys, all of whom seemed to agree that having a big dick was basically the best thing that could happen to a bloke. But Harry had quickly realised that, contrary to Seamus's emphatic assertions, there _was_ such a thing as too big, and Harry's dick, unfortunately, seemed to have crossed that loathed threshold. 

It wasn't all bad, but in Harry's more-limited-than-he'd-prefer experience, his _frighteningly large monster cock_ (as one wizard who hadn't made it to a fourth date had put it) tended to be more of a net-negative than positive. It was always something. If it wasn't his partners feeling freaked out and intimidated by his sheer size, as if terrified that Harry's possessing a big cock meant he would be intent on forcing it upon them, then it was the men who seemed to take the size of Harry's dick as a personal affront to their own manhood and turned all pissy and competitive upon the reveal. Those that weren't immediately intimidated or emasculated seemed to view his dick with an almost avaricious gleam, keen to get dicked down by Harry, either because he was the Saviour or because a _cock that big shouldn't go to waste_. Which. Was fine, really, and Harry supposed it was a better reaction than the first two options. Harry didn't _mind_ doing the fucking, but he preferred being the fuckee, all things being equal, and just once he'd like to be with a bloke who didn't take one look at his dick and either run screaming for the hills or immediately try to climb him like Mount Everest. Just once he'd like it to not be about his dick at _all_ (okay, maybe it could be a _little_ bit about his dick) so he could be the one screaming into his pillow. 

"Err…" Harry was, as ever, eloquent in all situations. Though, to be fair, he wasn't sure there was an eloquent way to ask somebody if they were freaked out by your _porn star_ dick and about to make things super uncomfortable. Draco, however, managed to solve this problem by not saying anything at all. Instead, he reached out and tugged Harry into another heated snog. Which was good, _amazing_ , and it got even better as his hands began to wander down Harry's torso.

" _Fuck_ , Potter," he murmured against Harry's lips as he took Harry's cock in hand. Or rather, _hands_ because, well, Harry was too big around for just the one. Draco broke off the kiss to stare down at where he was wanking Harry off with both hands, clearly turned on. Harry was glad Draco didn't fall into the intimidated or jealous category, but given the way he was licking his lips, Harry braced himself for a change in their plans for the evening. It wouldn't be a hardship fucking Draco—far from it—even if it hadn't been what he'd been dreaming of over the past several months of foreplay. 

"Of course you'd be hung like a bloody Hippogriff," Draco continued, his voice low and lips twisted into a smug little smirk that made Harry's dick throb in Draco's hands. "I can't wait to watch this big cock of yours swing while you're bouncing up and down on _mine_."

Harry's brain momentarily melted at the wicked image Draco's words conjured, so similar to the filthy fantasies that had taken root in Harry's head when Draco had strolled back into his life all those months ago. _Fuck_ , he wanted that, and preferably sooner rather than later, before he came all over Draco's hand.

"Bed," Harry half gasped, half growled. "Now."

"As you wish," Draco murmured, ghosting a kiss against Harry's throat as he disengaged his hands from Harry's cock and climbed gracefully onto Harry's bed. He lounged back against the pillows, hands folded beneath his head, looking haughty and gorgeous, a prince waiting to be serviced. His cock was hard and leaking against his stomach, making Harry's mouth water and his arse ache as he tried to decide if he had the patience to give it a quick suck before moving on to the night's main event. Harry'd always been a fan of giving head, but when he sucked somebody off he preferred to have the time to really luxuriate in the experience and drive them wild. Tonight, he was too desperate for Draco to fuck him to really do justice to a blow job. He'd just have to save it for next time. And there _would_ be a next time. Harry wasn't sure yet if there was more simmering between him and Draco than some serious sexual tension, but he knew it would take more than one night to work it out. There'd be time to explore the possibilities of Harry's unexpected _feelings_ , but that time would come later. After. When Harry wasn't so laser-focused on getting Draco's dick in him as soon as humanly possible.

With what was almost certainly less grace than Draco had displayed when getting on the bed, Harry crawled over to Draco and straddled him, unable to resist leaning down for a leisurely snog that quickly turned filthy as he groped inside his bedside table for his bottle of lube. Thankfully he didn't have to grope long. The nearly empty bottle was right near the front of the drawer, a result of the drastic increase in wanking he'd been experiencing due to working in such close proximity with Draco's smirky, sarcastic face. Smirky, sarcastic faces really did it for Harry, as did Draco bringing him cups of tea when they all worked late, and them sharing amused smiles when Ron went off on a tangent about the Cannons. Draco's… _everything_ really hit all of Harry's buttons these days, but there was a very _particular_ button he'd like Draco to hit with due haste, so he pulled back from the kiss, dumped entirely too much lube on his fingers, and reached back to slick himself up.

Draco made a grumbling sound and when Harry looked down at him, he was honest-to-god pouting.

"What?" Harry asked, distracted by the slide of his fingers opening himself up.

"I was rather hoping to get to do that part myself," Draco said, arching up beneath Harry rather pointedly so that his dick rubbed up against Harry's arse in a _very_ enjoyable manner. Harry shuddered. Right, then, that was plenty of prep.

"Next time," Harry began, kneeling up and reaching behind himself to take hold of Draco's cock. "Next time you can finger me until I beg for it, but right now I really just want to get fucked."

" _Salazar_ , you're keen."

Harry grinned down at him. "Problem?"

Draco shook his head emphatically. "Not for me." He paused, biting his lip before continuing in a hopeful tone, "Next time?"

Harry's cheeks grew warm, and it was a little ridiculous that he had Draco's dick in hand and was currently teasing his rim with the hot, rounded head, but it was Draco calling him out on Harry not wanting this to be a one-time deal that had him blushing.

"Problem?" he said again, this time more gently, unable to entirely pull off his earlier bravado.

Draco's gaze softened. "Not for me." They had a gooey _moment_ staring into one another's eyes before Draco seemed to shake himself out of it. He slapped Harry's thigh. "All right, hot stuff, let's get this show on the road."

"Hot stuff?" Harry asked with a snort, though he didn't let that deter him from starting to ease back onto Draco's dick, relishing the stretch. Godric, but it had been far too long since he'd had this, and that it was _Draco_ who was giving it to him, the bloke he'd been pretending not to have a crush on for ages now…

Draco flapped his hands dismissively, his breathing speeding up and his hips shifting restlessly beneath Harry's bum, as if he was holding himself back from thrusting. "We can work out pet names later."

"Oh, no," Harry replied breathlessly, bracing himself on Draco's firm chest, feeling the Sectumsempra scars beneath his palms. "Hot stuff's great. You should"—he lifted himself until just the tip of Draco was inside him, then sat back down, hard—"definitely call me that."

Draco groaned, his hands flying up to Harry's hips, gripping tight. "I'll call you whatever the hell you want, just don't stop."

Harry had no intention of stopping, not until they were both sticky and sated. Draco felt so fucking _good_ inside of him, rubbing right up against his prostate as Harry rocked up and down on Draco's cock. He could already tell this was going to be over embarrassingly quickly, but he didn't mind, not when they'd already agreed they'd be doing this again, that this wouldn't be the first, last, and only time. 

"You're close already," Draco said hoarsely, looking up at him, his silver eyes seeming to glow in the low lamplight. "I've never been with somebody so keen." The rough, awed tone of his voice made it clear that he liked Harry's eagerness very much, and Harry picked up the pace, crying out as Draco filled him again and again. 

"You look even better than I imagined," Draco continued while his hands slid up Harry's flexing thighs. His gaze fixated on Harry's cock, which was smacking against Draco's belly as Harry rode him, leaving a trail of sticky precome in its wake. It was ridiculously hot, and Draco seemed to agree, because he licked his lips as he reached out, grabbing hold of Harry with both hands.

Harry's rhythm faltered at the sudden burst of pleasure, and Draco gave him a smug little grin, his fists twisting along Harry's shaft. Harry's size didn't seem to negatively affect Draco's technique as he wanked Harry off with expert precision; he would have brought Harry to his knees if he weren't already on them, sliding up and down Draco's dick. 

"Come on, Harry," Draco murmured, his voice low and strained as he clearly approached his own orgasm. "I want you to come for me, want to watch this big dick of yours come all over me."

Harry shuddered, overwhelmed. Between the dick in his arse, the hands jerking him off, Draco's filthy words and the sound of Harry's name on Draco's tongue… well, Harry didn't stand a chance. He sat down fully on Draco's cock and came with a long moan, his hands gripping Draco's chest. Draco swore, low and emphatic, and vaguely Harry was aware of his hips twitching and bucking beneath Harry as he chased his release.

What might have been several seconds or several minutes later, Harry blinked down at Draco, feeling floaty and fantastic. Godric he had needed that, and now that the spectacular shag was over with, he found himself moving on to the delightful afterglow part where all he wanted to do was cuddle and make out until he fell asleep in Draco's arms. Which could potentially become a bit awkward and embarrassing as he had no idea if Draco was a snuggler, but he supposed there was no time like the present to find out. He leaned down, giving Draco a slow, leisurely snog as Draco's softening cock slid out of him in a sticky glide. At some point Draco reached for his wand and cast a Cleaning Charm over them both.

"How are you feeling?" Draco asked as Harry rolled off of him and pressed himself along Draco's side in a stealth snuggle.

"Hmm?"

Draco's palm ghosted over Harry's side, the one that had been torn open not all that long ago. "Your side, how is it?" Draco brow furrowed as he looked down at the unblemished skin, seeming far more concerned than was warranted. "That was… probably a more vigorous shag than is advisable after a Healing spell."

"I feel _brilliant_ ," Harry said emphatically with only the smallest hint of a leer. "Seriously," he continued when Draco's brow remained creased. "I'm all healed, promise. Your wand fixed me right up." He waggled his eyebrows, quite pleased with his double entendre. Draco snorted, seemingly less impressed, though his expression eased somewhat.

"If you're sure… you certainly didn't seem hampered any."

Harry grinned at him. "If it would make you feel better, you could always stay the night for observation. Keep a close eye on me and make sure I'm okay."

Draco's lips twitched. "Ah, yes. I suppose that would be… prudent. I'd hate for Weasley to come after me should your wounds reappear in the night."

"Exactly," Harry agreed, pressing in closer, pleased that Draco seemed to welcome the post-coital twining of their bodies. Harry loved the feeling of Draco's warm, bare skin against his own, the gentle press of his soft dick against Harry's thigh, the firm swell of his bicep curled around Harry's back. "Definitely best for all involved if you stay right here tonight. We can…" Harry hesitated. "We can get breakfast tomorrow. Maybe talk about… things."

Draco huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, all right. We can pretend we're emotionally mature adults and talk about our feelings."

"Yeah, but _tomorrow_. Tonight"—Harry shifted until his lips were mere millimeters from Draco's—"want to make out like teenagers until we fall asleep?"

Draco didn't bother answering; he threaded his fingers through Harry's hair and pulled him in for a kiss.

Harry grinned against Draco's lips, feeling warmly content, a spark of hope and excitement for tomorrow flickering inside him.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of HD Erised 2020; thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment below. ♥
> 
> ===
> 
> [Kudos ♥] and [Comments] are fabulous! I'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://gracerene09.tumblr.com/)!


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